My mind spins to puzzle through what he’s saying. “So…you hate the way I make you feel?”
“No.” His expression softens, and he takes a step closer. “Perhaps I did at first. I despised my attraction to you, and yes, it was there from the start. I hated the thought of you feeling the same about me. About this body. And yet, now…I may hate the way I hurt in this form. But with that pain comes deeper things. Things I don’t think I can ever give up now that I’ve felt them.”
“Like what?”
He closes the distance between us with another step and lifts his trembling hands to frame my face. His palms are warm on my cheeks as he stares into my eyes. “Gemma, I love you.”
I feel like my legs will give out beneath me, like all the world will melt into that space beneath my feet. Tears well in my eyes, obscuring my vision of him as his words echo in my mind.Gemma, I love you. Gemma, I love you. Words I once thought I’d never care to hear again now feel like nourishment, as if my heart had been empty all along until it was filled with their warmth.
“Please say something,” he whispers, bringing our foreheads to touch as he closes his eyes. “You don’t have to say it back. You can tell me to freeze off, if you must. Tell me to never speak of love again and I will do as you wish. I’ll marry that horrid girl and leave you in peace. Just…say anything, so long as it’s true.”
I want to say something, but words won’t form. I’m still reeling from everything I’ve experienced tonight—the euphoria of dancing with Elliot at the ball, the pain of knowing I’d have to let him go, the rage at what Imogen would ask of Elliot, the anguish over what she’s willing to sacrifice for his hand. Then the apathy, the resignation, all culminating in the last thing I expected.
A declaration of love. Not only that, but the way my heart sings its return.
I can say but one word. “Elliot.” My breath hitches from the weight of his name, for within it lies everything I can’t bring myself to say just yet. My feelings, my desires, the yearning I’ve stifled for weeks now. I bring my hands to his torso, and he stiffens, as if bracing for me to push him away. But I don’t push him away. I slide my hands up his chest, resting one at the base of his throat while the other glides toward his jaw, his chin. He trembles as I bring my thumb to his mouth, then slide it slowly over his lower lip.
All at once, we collide, lips locking together in a fierce kiss. My arms encircle his neck, pulling him closer. He presses in, and I feel my back come up against one of the bookshelves. I open my mouth and feel the slide of his tongue seeking mine. Our breaths grow sharp and heavy, and I tilt my head back to welcome more of him, more of his lips, his tongue, his breath. All these days and weeks I’ve denied my attraction to him have built up, wound tightly in a coil at my core. Having him against me like this, filling my senses, allows that coil to unfurl at last, and the rush of desire it loosens is almost too much to bear. His hand roves over the front of my dress, resting over the curve of my breast. I gasp, arching against him, wishing there wasn’t a layer of lace and silk between his hand and my flesh.
His lips leave mine to trail across my jaw, then down my neck. My hands weave into his hair and his do the same with mine, sending pins flying to the floor as my dark tresses tumble free down my back. When his lips return to mine, I bring a hand to his chest, slipping it beneath the open collar to the firm musculature beneath. He stiffens against me, then pulls back slightly, muscles quivering with desire as he meets my eyes. That same desire echoes inside me, and I want nothing more than to act on it. But the brief pause is enough for me to hear the small voice in the back of my head, one that shouts something I shouldn’t ignore.
I swallow hard, pulling back an inch, my head resting against the spines of the books behind me as I look up at him. “Elliot, I can’t break your curse,” I whisper.
He braces his arms on the bookshelf and lowers his forehead to mine. “No, my dearest Gemma. I will never ask that of you.”
“Then…what will we do? What does this mean for us?”
“I know what I have to do.” His words are firm, resolute.
My eyes widen. “You’re going to…do it yourself?” I can hardly bring myself to elaborate. He’s going to break his own curse. Sacrifice his unseelie form. Terror and awe and gratitude wash over me.
He nods.
Tears prick my eyes. “Are you sure?”
“I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life.” He leans in closer, and I claim his lips with mine. Desire returns, hotter than anything I’ve ever felt before, multiplied by the realization that he’s willing to sacrifice the thing he values most…for me. For the unexpected love we’ve found between us. Before I met him, I’d given up on love. On romance. Even as I acknowledged my growing feelings while we danced the waltz, I’d resigned to let him go, knowing the wolf king could never be mine, even if the curse were to be broken. But now…possibilities I never could have expected span before me. He’s mine. He loves me. He’s going to break his curse.
My heart soars as it beats against his chest, radiating down to every inch of my being. Our kisses begin to slow, growing softer, more tender. He drags his tongue against mine in a languid caress, eliciting a moan from me. This is where it should end tonight, I know. We should ride the wave of this declining pace, take a step back, say goodnight.
As if he knows it too, he brushes his lips softly against mine but doesn’t pull away. Not yet. My heart sinks in anticipation of him doing just that. I’m not ready to let him go, not even for a single night. Not with the desire that continues to burn in my veins, throbbing with every beat of my heart. “Take me to your room,” I whisper against his mouth.
He stills, tensing against me. “Are you sure?”
My lips pull into a smirk, and I echo his own words back to him with just a hint of mockery. “I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life.”
Matching my grin, he takes my hand in his and leads me out of the library and into the hall. A giddy excitement fills my heart as we move through the dark halls, making me feel younger, the way I felt the first time I fell in love. This, however, feels different. Elliot brings something new that I never felt before, a connection that was missing with Oswald and all my previous dalliances.
We reach a door not far from the library, and he pushes it open. Inside is a spacious bedroom with a neatly made bed at its center, plush rugs surrounding it, and a warm fire roaring in the hearth. He closes the door behind us, then faces me with a shy smile. It makes him look more youthful than ever, as if he too feels that echo of first love that has me so intoxicated.
“This is my room,” he says, a hint of a blush in his cheeks.
“I figured.” My voice comes out tremulous. Now that we’re in his bedroom, the same sense of shyness creeps over me that seems to have taken him. But the desire remains, buzzing from my head to my toes. It’s softer now, sweeter. I face him, bringing my hands to his shoulders as I meet his eyes.
I expect his lips to lower onto mine, but he hesitates. “I should tell you something,” he says, his blush deepening.
I furrow my brow. “What is it?”
He grimaces, as if he dreads what he’s about to say. “I’ve never,” he clears his throat, “takena mate while in my seelie form.”
